


Sexier Than Doctor Sexy

by almaasi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Attraction to Fictional Characters, Awkward Boners, Bartender Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester, Dean Has a Sexuality Crisis, Dean in Denial, Doctor Castiel, Doctor Kink, Doctor Sexy M.D., Embarrassed Dean, Erectile Dysfunction/Impotence, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate Erections, Latex, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Nervous Dean, No Sex, One Shot, POV Third Person Omniscient, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Professionals Being Unprofessional, Prostate Exams, Workplace Sex, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to see Dr. Castiel about the problem of his recent impotence. Discussion leads to a prostate exam, which Dean enjoys a little too much, rendering Castiel far less professional than he usually strives to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexier Than Doctor Sexy

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for entertainment purposes only, so I beg that nobody judges me for it. I did do some medical research, but if I screwed up, apologies.  
> Enjoy!

Castiel yawned and stretched backwards in his chair. His fingers latticed over his head, pulling a beautiful ache into his tired shoulders. He felt something crick in his spine, and he sighed as he relaxed back to a normal seated position.

The afternoon summer sun slatted warmly through the half-shut blinds on the right of his office, leaving stripes of pale yellow all the way across the left wall, where the examination bed-table lay in wait for the next patient. The entire room felt muggy, but Castiel was sure that was only in his imagination.

He watched the door situated in the far left corner of the room, hoping the day’s final patient would not have anything oozing or infectious. The gentle sunlight and the physical fatigue he felt made him lazy by default; he didn’t think he had the stomach to deal with anything more gruesome than a bruised toe.

He smiled, thinking of a phrase word-for-word: thank God it was Friday.

He heaved a cleansing sigh, using the quiet time to tidy up the files on his desk. No sooner than he’d brushed a fleck of dust to the carpet, the door to his office opened.

“Ah, Mr. Winchester!”

“Hey, Doctor.”

The bowlegged man who entered gave a nervous wave, checked the hall outside with a fast glance, then closed the door until it clicked. Castiel was glad to see him, but he wouldn’t say such a thing aloud.

“What can I do for you?” Castiel asked, taking Dean’s medical file in hand and scooting out from behind his desk on his wheely chair. He stopped at its side, resting his elbow on it, his ankle hooked over a knee. He smiled.

Dean fidgeted with his green jacket, which he’d worn specifically so he would feel more at ease - or, perhaps, to flatter his figure, but that was essentially the same thing. He didn’t sit, even when Castiel gestured politely to the chair that was set before the doctor’s desk.

Dean gulped. “Uh. I’m not... I’m not really sure what you _can_ do for me,” he said, wishing he had pockets to hide his fidgeting hands.

Castiel noticed how nervous the other man was, but said nothing about it. He had never seen him so on edge. “Well, why don’t you take a seat, and tell me about it?”

Dean let out a strained breath, swallowing down as much discomfort as he could before he sat. The chair was plastic and smooth-surfaced, not particularly comfortable, but not uncomfortable either. He had nothing to rest his hands on, and nothing to grasp except his own thighs.

Dr. Castiel wore a white shirt with no jacket, sleeves hitched past his elbow in a relaxed scramble of cotton. His blue silk tie was draped over his crotch, and he gazed at Dean with a very discerning expression, like he was trying to diagnose him from his cold sweat alone. But Dean’s ailment had nothing to do with that, and Dean didn’t want the wrong diagnosis, so he made a great effort to say, clearly, “It’s about...” He looked down at his crotch, then back to the doctor. “My dick,” he said, offering a cocky grin that he was sure camouflaged how much he hadn’t wanted to say that.

“I see,” the doctor said, making a note.

Castiel was drawing triangles. “Is there anything specific the matter?”

Dean cleared his throat, slipping his hands between his thighs, which he kept parted. “It’s just that... Uh. Look, I mean, I can get - _hard_ , and that, but it’s kind of really...” He huffed and lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. Castiel tried not to smile, enthralled by the blush that flooded the man’s freckled cheeks.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed,” Castiel said, meeting Mr. Winchester’s eye and giving him a reassuring nod. “Erectile dysfunction happens to nearly every man at some stage of his life. Tell me as much as you can.”

Dean nodded, licking his lips. “It doesn’t stay up. I thought it was just a one-off problem, I - you know - apologised to the girl I was with, and she kind of laughed, but I figured it wouldn’t happen again. But it did, with the next girl.” Dean was frowning now, looking at his knees. He wasn’t embarrassed any more, but ashamed. “I stopped trying to pick up girls about a month back, it just got ridiculous. I’d get her clothes off and we’re both naked and raring to go, and I see her and...” Dean pointed a finger at an angle towards the ceiling in demonstration, and made a powering-down noise as he let the finger relax. He laughed softly and dropped his hand back to his lap, eyes lifting again in time to see Castiel’s return smile.

“What about when you masturbate?” Castiel asked in a calm manner.

Dean grinned quickly. “That works. Same thing though, I get hard and I’m pretty into it, but... God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m almost _there_ , and then it just deflates like a fuckin’ punctured tyre.”

Castiel chuckled, shaking his head forgivingly when Dean made to apologise for swearing.

“Do you have an erection in the morning?” Castiel asked, making a proper note this time.

Dean shifted in his seat, then cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah,” he forced out. “Yeah, and - actually―”

“Yes?” Dr. Castiel’s blue eyes caught Dean’s, holding his gaze as he waited for the rest of Dean’s confession.

Dean wasn’t sure how much he could really say without needing to change GP out of shame. He could feel heat on his cheeks, and a tightness in his pants that shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t his fault - his dick knew they were talking about it, and wanted to join the party.

“Um,” he said, “I’ve kind of been having... dreams.”

“Wet dreams?”

Dean nodded, slipping his hands under his thighs, then removing them again. “It’s the only way I’m getting off. I wake up and the sheets are soaked.” Dr. Castiel was squinting at his page, jotting something down in handwriting that, from a distance of a few feet, looked untidy but still fluid. On a shaking breath, Dean went on, “These dreams, they’re not what I usually think about. They - freak me out a little.”

“Is it the same thing every time?” Dr. Castiel inquired.

Dean shook his head. “No. Well, sort of. Same person, same ch-... character.” He frowned and looked determinedly at his lap.

“Ah, a fictional character,” Castiel said brightly. Dean glanced up to see the doctor set his pen down, hands together as he leaned back in his chair, wrists relaxed on his folded leg. “Don’t worry, Mr. Winchester, that’s quite normal. Fiction gives us fantasies we wouldn’t otherwise consider.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, but didn’t really feel it. The embarrassment wasn’t abating, and Castiel’s quiet scrutiny wasn’t any help.

“Do you have any past history of impotence?” Castiel said, lifting his pen and poising it over the manilla paper that he tugged into his lap. Dean shook his head. Castiel hummed, narrowing his eyes and returning the paper to the desk, setting his pen down firmly on top.

“I looked it up online,” Dean said, stroking a thumb over a rip in his jeans. “Said it could be caused by alcohol, so I cut down. But it’s not that. And I don’t smoke, and I’m not depressed, and I’m not on drugs or anything, so...” He shrugged.

Castiel gave Mr. Winchester a tight-lipped smile. “The internet would surely put me out of a job, if it provided _every_ answer to patients’ questions,” he remarked.

“So what else is there?” Dean asked, his green eyes lightened by the lines of sun on the side of his face.

“Well, I could conduct an examination, if you would allow it,” Castiel said, releasing his folded knee and letting both of his shoes rest flat on the floor. “Sometimes there’s an abnormality with the penis structure that could cause a dysfunction, or a disruption of the blood flow. You’re only thirty-five, but from age forty onwards men do tend to have more problems with blood flow. How is your diet?”

Dean took a wide-mouthed breath. “I... Okay, my diet’s not great. Mostly, I can’t resist a good burger.”

Castiel began to smile, unable to help himself. “Yes. No, don’t worry, I understand. Burgers are troublesome obstacles when it comes to healthy eating.”

“But the ones I like aren’t fried,” Dean added, and Castiel nodded. “Just a good old grill-‘n-bun. Maybe some onions, a little lettuce and tomato if I’m feeling brave.”

Castiel couldn’t keep his smile from widening. Dean was describing his perfect meal.

Chuckling, Castiel pushed Dean’s file away from him. “The picture is much clearer now. Is there anything else you wish to tell me, or may we begin a physical examination?”

Dean wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, thinking. “While I was looking it up online - _yeah_ , I know, I know, the internet lies - but I saw, I read... that it might maybe be caused by - prostate problems.”

“Ah,” Castiel said, squinting in consideration. “Any trouble urinating? Is it painful, do you feel like you need to go all the time?”

Dean’s lips pulled sideways and he shook his head. “I just thought it might be important.”

“I see. Are you a doctor, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean seemed startled for a moment, then he ducked his head and laughed. “Naw. Nah, I’m a, uh - I tend bar up at the Roadhouse. And balance the books, and sometimes fluff up pillows in the bedrooms, but the most medical experience I have is cataloguing the first aid kits.” He relaxed a little, leaning back, one leg stretched out, one crooked with his ankle pressed to the silver leg of the chair. He gave Castiel an easygoing smile.

Thus, Castiel discovered the way to coax information out of his patient, and was glad Dean felt more settled now. “I hear they sell the best burgers in town,” Castiel said to him, and smiled when Dean’s expression wrinkled with a smile. Lines pulled beside his eyes, a nice curve turning his red lips.

“They do,” Dean nodded, licking his lips again. “Yeah, they really do. You oughta come by sometime.”

Dean tried to eat those words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but there they were, floating in the now-silent air. Dr. Castiel was smirking.

“Perhaps I shall,” the doctor said. “But for now,” he looked to the examination bed, “if you wouldn’t mind undressing? We can begin.”

Dean felt another spark of feeling between his legs that was decidedly inappropriate. Seriously, if he couldn’t get it up in bed, why the hell did Little Dean feel like it now?

Dean stood up, turning away from the doctor, who politely shuffled some papers so Dean could disrobe in peace. Dean went to the teal padded-leather patient table and shed his outer jacket, leaving it crumpled on the chair beside the bed, which was set up against a children’s height-measuring chart. There was a privacy curtain dangling open against the chair, which would close around the examination table, but Dean was pretending he was confident enough that he didn’t need it, so he didn’t draw it shut. The table came up to his waist, and had a protective layer of tissue paper unrolled down its centre and over the pillow at the head.

Dean toed off his boots, then removed his t-shirt and glanced over to the doctor, who was checking something on his laptop screen. Dean began on his pants, flipping open his belt and undoing his buttons as casually as he could.

He stepped onto the cold linoleum that surrounded the examination table, and decided that if he was going to get naked in here, he might as well do it properly. He bent down and took off his socks, tossing them carelessly into the ankles of his boots.

Castiel stood up when he sensed Dean was almost undressed. He closed his laptop, leaving his notes where they were. He went to the sink to the left of his desk, tugged out two latex gloves from the box affixed to the wall, then put them on. He let the second one snap against his wrist, grinning when Dean turned around with a fearful shine in his eyes.

“Apologies, I like to make the gloves make that noise,” the doctor said, making Dean chuckle.

“They always do that in the movies,” Dean smirked.

“Exactly,” Castiel said, stepping up to Dean’s side.

Dean was broad in the shoulder, and had twice as many freckles there than he did on his cheeks. He still wore his boxers. Castiel looked him in the eye. “Mr. Winchester, I must ask you to remove your underwear. A penis examination is not the easiest thing to do when said penis is hiding behind elasticated cotton.”

Dean was blushing again, and trying very hard not to get... well, _hard_. Maybe it was the warmth in the room, or the fact he didn’t entirely know what to expect. Maybe it was the whole semi-forced nudity thing, he always liked that. Maybe it was the fact he was being told what to do by an authority figure, and since he was here by choice, he wasn’t even allowed to argue like he usually would. It could have been any reason. Getting an erection now scared Dean as much as it excited him.

But Dean did as he was told, bending down, eyes on Dr. Castiel’s as he bent from the waist, scrolling his boxers down his legs. Dr. Castiel looked away for only a moment before his eyes found Dean’s again, and Dean himself had to turn away, at the mercy of his unwanted arousal.

“There,” Castiel said, as cheerfully as he could, once Dean stood straight again. “That makes things a lot less tricky.”

Dean gave him a grin that was far less cocky than the one earlier. He put his tangled underwear on top of his pile of clothes, then stood to attention, throat tucking to his jaw as he swallowed.

“Now, I’ll explain what I’m going to do, don’t worry,” Castiel said, standing less than a foot away from Dean. “I’m going to touch your penis. The glove might feel a little strange, but I’m only going to poke about a bit, it won’t hurt.”

“What’re you looking for?” Dean asked, lowering his eyes to watch as Castiel’s hand reached for his crotch.

“Abscesses, rashes, swellings, anything out of the ordinary.”

“There isn’t anything,” Dean said.

“No, but I ought to still look,” Castiel said.

Skin though latex did indeed feel strange. Castiel was used to his hands being surrounded by the gloves, but for Dean it was a whole new sensation of slidey. There was human warmth, but smothering that, there was that rubbery, slick plastic feel. It was almost like his own cock was inside an unlubricated condom, touching his dick - Dean gasped silently, feeling and seeing his cock pulse as Castiel’s fingers held his member.

“S- Sorry,” Dean whispered, frowning as Castiel pulled his foreskin back, making Dean’s cock twitch again.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Castiel said, with as much vocal respect as he could muster. “The penis is a sensitive organ.”

“You’re telling _me_ ,” Dean breathed, flushing hot as Castiel lifted his penis, running his fingers along the underside, pushing to the base. “ _Oh_ God―” Dean’s eyes fell shut and he lost himself for a moment, absorbed by how it felt to have someone else touch him. His hands gripped the examination table behind his hips, making the leather judder as he squeezed.

“Turn your head to the side. I’m going to check for hernias.” Castiel cupped his fingers to Dean’s inguinal canal behind his scrotum, and gently ordered, “Cough?”

Dean tried to cough but it came out as more of a startled reverse-hiccup. Castiel supposed that would do, he felt nothing out of the ordinary there. Dean had a very well-balanced manhood.

Dean panted, lifting his head and meeting Castiel’s curious eyes. Castiel saw shock in Dean’s face. It was like the poor man had never felt arousal before.

“I’m not gay,” Dean whispered, total desperation in his voice. “I’m not.”

Castiel’s mouth gaped a little, slowly retracting his hand from Dean’s rising erection. “The - um, the penis reacts to touch, Mr. Winchester. An erection doesn’t always mean arousal.”

Dean was blushing pink, his eyes watering. He took a while to reply.

The thing was, he _did_ feel arousal, and he couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t just the touch - he’d been getting hard since he walked into the room. But he couldn’t say that to his doctor. “But, umm... But when I’m jacking off,” he gestured vaguely as Dr. Castiel took a step back, “I’m touching, then, and I can’t keep it up.”

Castiel licked his lips, trying so very hard to hide the fact that Dean’s bare-faced shame was actually turning him on slightly. “That’s what we’re here to fix, Mr. Winchester,” he said. He nodded in Dean’s direction, not meeting his eyes this time.

“So now what?” Dean asked, nervously wrapping his arms around his middle. He was staring at his semi-erection, which was growing as Castiel determinedly looked away.

“Now,” Castiel said, fetching the pump-bottle of lubricant from the shelf on the other side of the curtain, “if you will allow it, I will conduct a digital prostate check.”

“Digital? You’ve got machines for that?”

“Oh,” Castiel said, putting the lubricant down on the examination bed. “Digital. As in, fingers.”

Realisation slowly dawned on Dean’s face. He smiled slightly, and he blushed, and he looked so scared that Castiel reached a gloved hand out towards him, taking him by the arm and rubbing him reassuringly. “It won’t hurt, Mr. Winchester.”

“It’s not that.” Dean’s heart was pounding, and for fuck’s sakes, he was getting harder by the second. “I’ve never... I mean―”

“What happens... Here, it’s like this.” Castiel rested back against the table with Dean, pulling off his gloves. “Pretend this is your prostate gland.” He made a fist at shoulder height, and Dean nodded. “It reality it’s no bigger than a hazelnut. This here is your bladder, this is your rectum.” He demonstrated a much larger shape for the bladder, right up against the side of the prostate, and then a long shape for the rectum.

“Rectum’s the inside of the ass, right?” Dean said, then laughed and looked away.

“Yes, it is,” Castiel smiled. He did enjoy talking to people who would clarify things in layman’s terms. Or children’s terms, in some cases. It made his job more entertaining.

“The prostate,” he went on, when Dean looked back. “is inside you, in the place where your penis is rooted. By inserting a finger, I will feel if there’s anything the matter. Your prostate should feel soft like skin, a little rubbery perhaps. Otherwise, it could be hard, or painful, and that will lead us towards finding a solution to your... ahm... problem.” Castiel’s eyes lingered on Dean’s erection. Dean shifted on his feet, one hand almost - but not quite - touching his half-hard cock.

Castiel let out a breath and looked away. Lazy Fridays were getting to be too lazy, it seemed. His sensibilities were falling slack.

Dean licked his lips, a sigh escaping. “So you’re gonna put your finger up my butt.”

“I won’t unless you’re comfortable with it,” Castiel said, looking back. He locked eyes with Dean. Dean probably wasn’t aware, but Castiel could see that his pupils were dilated.

Dean gulped twice, then panted as he nodded. “All right...” He nodded again. “All right, do it.”

“Then I’ll ask you to turn around, rest your elbows and forearms on the examination bed.” Dean did as he was told, and Castiel retrieved his latex gloves, putting them back on. “Spread your legs.”

Dean moaned under his breath, weak at the knees as he parted his legs, baring his naked ass to the doctor. Fuck, he was getting so hard. So _fucking_ hard. He wanted it, he fucking _wanted_ it. What the hell was wrong with him?!

“I’m not gay,” he whispered to himself, shutting his eyes and lowering his forehead to his clenched hands resting on the bed’s tissue cover. “I’m _not_ gay.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Castiel asked, pumping lubricant onto his fingers. “Did you say something?”

Dean shook his head, breath coming ragged. “I’m fine,” he said, loud enough for Castiel to hear this time.

“I’m ready to start now, Mr. Winchester, so if you could just relax...”

Dean bit his lip, feeling pre-come oozing from his slit. It dripped off him, and his toes curled on the linoleum. He was almost certain he heard the drip hit the floor. “Shit...”

Castiel took Dean’s left hip under his hand, thumb pressed gently to the dimple above Dean’s freckled, round ass. In another life, Castiel would have paid money for a chance to spread these cheeks apart and sink his tongue in, but this was not another life, this was his professional job. He intended to keep it that way. He cleared his throat. “Are you ready?”

Dean whined, trying to stop his hips from pushing forward, fucking something invisible. He gasped out, “Yes!”

Castiel used his left hand to nudge Dean’s buttocks apart, firstly checking with sight to see if there was anything strange. He saw only a perfectly crinkled anus, the surrounding area smooth, without hair. Castiel ran his dry finger against it, checking for lumps or irregularities― He grew concerned for a second when Dean tensed all over, but then the moment passed, and Dean sank his torso lower against the table, a tremble coursing up his curved, muscular thighs.

Castiel was not unaware of Dean’s extreme arousal. He wondered if Dean was going through something in his life that made him reject something that was coming naturally to him - the stifled moan spoke to that effect. Castiel peered over Dean’s shoulder, and true enough, Dean had put his fist into his mouth, and appeared to be biting it.

“If you want to make noises, sir, please feel free. It does make it easier for me to know if you’re in pain or not.” Castiel smirked, feeling devilish. Friday was a day for half-truths, perhaps.

Dean released his fist and sighed, pushing his hips back against Castiel’s finger, which Castiel only then realised was still resting on Dean’s anus.

“Please,” Dean whispered. “Oh, God - Doctor, _please_...” His voice had gone husky and rough, and Castiel’s mouth had gone dry.

Castiel glanced down, growing unnerved when he saw he was getting an erection of his own. He’d never lost control as completely as this, or ever been this unprofessional in this establishment. He dreaded to think how else he might fall from grace today.

“I’m going to put my finger in now,” Castiel said. “Relax.”

Dean nodded, a hand screwing into his hair. “Mmmm...”

Gently, Dr. Castiel put his lubricated forefinger against Dean’s hole, and Dean swore he could have come then and there from excitement alone. But it was only getting started. That finger slipped _inside_ , and Dean’s whole body felt the shock of it - he gasped aloud, ripping the bed’s tissue under his chin with a fist. His legs had turned to jelly, he was barely keeping himself upright. He could feel it, the doctor’s _finger_ , inside his ass, in the place men made use of when they had sex with each other. Dean moaned aloud before he could silence himself, “ _Doctor Sexyyy_...”

Castiel heard the moan, and he chuckled, wriggling his finger about to loosen Dean’s rectal muscles. “Doctor Sexy, huh?”

Dean whimpered, hips bucking forward. Castiel shushed him softly, holding his left hip with his dry hand. “Hold still.” Dean shook, but managed to make himself stop writhing. Castiel swallowed. “Is Doctor Sexy who you dream about?”

Dean nodded, feverish. “Yeah. Yeah. Oh God, Doctor...”

“He is very attractive, isn’t he?” Castiel said quietly, thumb stroking Dean’s hip, his right forefinger gradually sliding forth to reach Dean’s prostate. “What about when you masturbate, do you think about him then?”

Dean blinked a few times. Dr. Castiel must have a professional reason for asking that, he was sure. So he answered, forcing away his shame, “No. I - oh my God, oh my God - I think about girls. I always think about girls oh shit _oh shit oh shit_ ―”

“That’s your prostate gland,” Castiel told him, rubbing it softly. “It’s not swollen or hard, I think it’s okay. Does it hurt?”

Dean’s body squirmed in pleasure, crooning as a hot, filthy sweat broke out over his body, all of him set on fire. “Aaaahohhgodd,” he cried, tearing the paper on the bed cleanly, knocking the pillow onto the floor.

“Does it hurt, Mr. Winchester?” Castiel’s inner professional angel and his lusting demon were doing battle. On the one hand, he was perfectly well aware that both he and Dean were enjoying this more than they should. On the other hand, it was a legitimate question; a man screaming in his office usually meant pain.

Dean moaned again, spine arching. Castiel held him down by his hip, slipping his finger slowly in and out of Dean’s little hole. “You must tell me if it hurts, Mr. Winchester...”

Dean gasped and whimpered, lifting himself off the examination table enough that he could look down and see his cock flushed red, leaking pre-come in wet streaks all the way down to his balls, sticking in the soft hair. Dr. Castiel was going to make him come, and Dean didn’t know how he would ever live that down.

“No―” he grunted, frowning, dizzy, burning hot. “No, it do- doesn’t h-hurt.”

When Castiel sighed and let his finger slip out, Dean sobbed, “Don’t stop...”

He couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth, but he couldn’t argue that he wanted it.

“I must stop,” Castiel said plainly. Far more than Dean’s ability to orgasm was in jeopardy - one wrong move and Castiel would be out of a job. He took his gloves off, turning away and bundling them together.

Dean staggered off the linoleum, almost chasing Castiel the two steps he took to the pedal bin, where he threw the gloves in the trash. When Castiel turned around, Dean was looking at him like a lost puppy, but displaying every sign of male human arousal.

Castiel took a steadying breath, attempting to gather up whatever semblance of professionalism he still had. “I will help you to try it for yourself,” he offered, taking Dean’s bare elbow and leading him back to the bed. “Have you ever masturbated that way?”

“What? With my fingers in my ass?” Dean looked scandalised. “No.”

Castiel smiled. “I think it’s time to try, don’t you? Here, I’ll get you some gloves, and there’s the lubrication. You can just lie back on the table―” He broke his sentence to take the old tissue Dean had ruined off the table, then offering the uncovered leather to Dean. “Lie on your back, and we’ll see what you can do about not leaving here with an acute case of blue balls.”

Dean nodded like a chided schoolboy, head down. His eyes searched the floor like he was reading it, eyelashes fluttering. Castiel touched his arm again, which appeared to draw his attention, and he guided him up to the table.

Dean climbed up, then rolled over and lay on his back, legs apart, automatically taking up the missionary position. He looked over at Castiel pleadingly, and Castiel had to mentally kick himself and force his eyes away. He went to the sink and got a single latex glove, then went to Dean’s side and handed it to him. “Put this on.” He picked up the lubricant bottle, and when Dean had put on the glove, he pushed the pump down to put some lube onto Dean’s ready fingers.

“You know what to do now, I think,” Castiel said confidently. “Do you need anything else?”

Dean held his eye for a few seconds, then shook his head. He kind of wanted Dr. Castiel to watch, to make sure he was doing it right... but that would never leave his mouth. “I’m okay.”

Before Castiel had the chance to turn away, Dean put his slippery, gloved hand to his entrance, and lifted his hips to slide in a finger. Castiel’s eyes were of course drawn to the sight, and Dean’s cock pulsed heavily, watching Castiel.

There was something about Dr. Castiel - his calm demeanour, the way he touched, the way he was happy to guide Dean - that made Dean think... perhaps he was a little bit _more_ sexy than Doctor Sexy. He had wonderful blue eyes, and such a scruffy five o’clock shadow. And very nice hands.

Dean pretended it was still Dr. Castiel’s finger inside as he slipped his own in deeper.

Castiel actually gasped aloud once a few seconds had passed, and flew into retreat. Dean figured the doctor hadn’t really realised he’d been staring. The curtain beside the bed was zipped closed immediately, and Dean saw the silhouetted figure of the doctor pacing up a down a few steps on the other side of the curtain.

“What’s wrong?” Dean called, shutting his eyes and enjoying the tingle as his finger finally found his prostate. It wasn’t as good or unexpected as when the doctor had found it, but it was still nice.

“I - I ought to leave you to your privacy,” Dr. Castiel said. His voice was breathy.

“You don’t have to,” Dean said. “I don’t mind, seriously. There’s a curtain, you don’t have to leave the room.”

Fifteen minutes ago Dean would rather have jumped off a building than let his male doctor sit in while Dean got himself off. But things had changed for him very quickly, and something made him want Castiel close.

Castiel didn’t reply, nor did he leave, which Dean took to mean he had agreed to Dean’s suggestion. Dean lifted his head and looked down at himself, seeing his legs spread wide, right hand stroking his erection as his finger slipped in and out of his hole. His eyes lost focus for a moment, and he grinned, loving it, loving it so much. This was how _men_ had sex. The thought was so dirty and naughty to him, but _fuck_ , it was so much fun to try it for himself. He touched, imagining lying back on an examining table as Doctor Sexy fingered him, or as Dr. Castiel showed him how to feel good.

After half a minute it didn’t matter that Dr. Sexy and Dr. Castiel were both men. Dean loved how it felt, and he was getting off on thinking about it. He hoped Dr. Castiel could hear how much he enjoyed it.

Castiel, in fact, couldn’t escape how pleasured Dean was. Every hitch in Dean’s breath and every stuttering moan made Castiel harder, and even though he couldn’t see Dean fucking himself on his fingers, that didn’t seem to matter - maybe it even made it easier to fantasise.

Castiel gripped both armrests of his wheely chair, safely behind the desk. He couldn’t leave and hide in the bathroom down the hall; he shouldn’t leave a patient alone, and he couldn’t get to the bathroom without someone seeing his tented slacks. He was stuck here, body pounding with an infuriating lust that he could do nothing about.

Dean’s voice came from behind the curtain, gentle and malleable, “I’m so hard... oh Doctor, I’m so hard right now...”

Castiel rolled his eyes back, then his head, flopping back in his chair. He was straining in his slacks, unsure what to do. “Are you―” he struggled for a helpless breath, “Do you not usually get this hard?”

Dean made a negative sound. “I’ve usually lost it by now.”

Castiel smirked. “What are you thinking about?”

“Y- Doctor Sexy,” Dean stuttered.

Castiel squinted, almost certain he’d heard the start of the word ‘ _you_ ’. But he pushed onwards; he may as well pretend this was still part of the examination, even while palming his cock through his trousers. “Perhaps you ought to think about Doctor Sexy more often.”

Dean made a breathy sound. “I - I’m not gay,” he said.

Castiel frowned. “What are you, then?”

“I’m straight! I like girls.”

Castiel glanced over to the curtain, from where endless rustles and soft vocalisations and judders of skin on tight leather made their way to Castiel. “I see,” he said. Professional, he was a _professional_ , he thought, as he unzipped his pants. “Ah- And, have you ever considered―”

“Yes,” Dean interrupted. “Yeah, I do... Doctor, I can’t stop... I keep th-thinking about getting touched like the way you just touched me, guys grabbin’ me or touching me or― Shit... I just wanna― _Aughhh_ shiiiit...”

Castiel frowned deeply, lower lip set between his teeth as he grabbed his cock and started jacking it as fast as he could, sinking low in his seat so he could be hidden by the desk. His breath was hot, his cock was riotously hard, and Dean was whining like an animal, inhuman and at the same time, completely human.

“There are―” Castiel made a sound of pleasure, “th- there’s toys you might want to try... Anal stimulus... Prostate toys―”

Dean shivered. “Like vibrators? Tiny little v- vibrators... Just - slip it in... Oh shit...”

Castiel smiled, moving his hand as fast as he could without losing his mind. “Is that - ah - is that something you want to try, Dean? Vibrators?”

Dean nodded, even though Castiel couldn’t see him past the curtain. “Yeah,” he moaned, tight throat making his voice gruffer than usual. “I do, Doctor, I want that - so bad... But I’m... I can’t― I can’t? Doctor, I - I’m so confused... I don’t know what to do...”

Castiel set his free hand over his eyes, breath coming harshly on his wrist. Dean’s pleas were so forlorn. Castiel couldn’t escape the knowledge that Dean was trusting him completely with this, he was telling Castiel his secrets, things it was clear he hadn’t shared with anyone else. And the joke behind it was that Castiel was as far from having Dean’s answers as he could possibly be. Castiel was as turned on as Dean was, working his hand as fast, mind churning amongst thoughts of confusion, losing his body to lust - all things he had no right to feel.

“When you’ve finished,” Castiel managed to say on his panting breath, “then... then we’ll talk.”

“Thank you... thank you, Doctor.” Dean moaned again, and Castiel gasped hugely as he heard Dean start to hump something, skin slapping flat to the table.

Dean had rolled onto his front, cock down to the leather, one hand grasping the fat ledge of the table with whitening fingers. His left hand was hooked behind his ass, two fingers inside, rubbing on his prostate, rendering him completely undone. “Doctor... oh fuck, Doctor―” he groaned pitifully, fucking down against the examination table without reserve, not caring that he was leaving a mess of pre-come that Dr. Castiel would have to clean. He was so close to coming like this, pretending there was a cock inside him.

Ass in the air, Dean set his forehead on the leather, and grinned shakily as three more short, smoothing strokes had him spill his load. “Ohgodyes... _Doctor_...” He thought about blue eyes as he kept coming, and thought about reassuring hands and the snap of latex gloves as he finished.

He sighed, which turned into a whimper and a satisfied shiver.

He listened, and thought he heard the slick rhythm of sliding skin, a hand on a wet cock... But that couldn’t be right, Dr. Castiel wasn’t allowed to do stuff like that... was he?

Letting out another groan of pleasure as he pushed himself up, Dean took a moment to sit straight on the examination table and spread his legs open, rubbing his anus against the tacky material. It was dry and sticky, but his muscles seemed to be inside out, and it felt amazing. Sore, but good.

He heard another gasp.

This time the gasp was the sound of Castiel coming. Castiel tried to keep the spray contained, coming into his cupped hand, but his limbs were too loose, his cock too enthusiastic. He came on the desk, he came down the leg of his slacks, he came on the carpet. He grunted as he pushed out the last ounce of pleasure, growling under his breath.

He was such a bad man.

He took a single second to wallow in what a terrible thing he’d just done, before he stood up, wet hands reaching for a facial tissue from the box on his desk. He cleaned up as quickly as he possibly could―

But it was not quick enough. Dean pulled back the curtain and emerged naked, stepping into the striped sun, flushed red on his chest and over his cheeks. There was semen on his abdomen, trailing down his thighs.

Dean saw Castiel’s cock still hanging out of his pants, and no matter how speedily Castiel moved to cover himself and do his pants back up, it was already too late, Dean had already seen him.

Now Castiel was blushing too. He hadn’t blushed for years.

Dean threw his used glove into the trash, then turned to face Castiel again. Castiel picked up the tissue box and held it out to Dean. “Here,” he said, and stood by as Dean pulled out two tufts and wiped himself down, eyes not leaving Castiel’s.

Castiel parted his lips with the tip of his tongue, lost for words. “I... uh.”

“You said we would talk,” Dean reminded him.

“Yes. Yes, I was going to talk to you about your... impotence.”

Dean offered Dr. Castiel a sheepish grin. “Well, Doctor, I would say you cured me.”

“Not quite,” Castiel said, putting the tissues down, then going to the sink and turning on the tap to wash his hands. Dean watched him carefully. “I think what you have is a kind of psychological... barrier, let’s say. If we break that barrier, I think you’ll find your penis will be functioning normally again within no time. You keep saying you’re not gay―”

“I’m not,” Dean said, folding his arms.

Castiel took a blue paper towel and dried his hands, stepping back from the sink so Dean could wash too. “I understand that’s your belief, but you are aware that there is nothing _wrong_ with being gay, aren’t you?”

Dean nodded, eyes on his hands as he filled his palm with frothy soap from the dispenser. “But I’m not gay, that’s all. You can’t diagnose me with being gay.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Castiel said, perching on the edge of his desk, hands together on his thighs. He watched Dean dry his hands, then use the wet paper towel to wipe down his body, including between his buttocks. “Mr. Winchester― Dean.”

Dean looked up. Castiel smiled.

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘bisexual’?”

“Bicycle?”

Castiel laughed, folding from his waist. “No... No, not ‘bicycle’.” He swivelled around on the desk without standing up, fetching a thick paper notecard and his pen from the desktop. Leaning over his thigh, he wrote the word down clearly, then handed it to Dean.

Dean stood there, stark naked on the carpet, looking at the card. _Bisexual_. “What does it mean?”

“It’s a sexual orientation. There’s ‘gay’: in a man’s case, a man who is attracted to other men - and there’s straight: men who like women. There’s a lot of sexualities in between, and there’s a lot that doesn’t fit into that spectrum at all, but ‘bisexual’ means that a person is attracted to both men _and_ women.”

Dean’s lip wobbled. “But I’m not.”

“You like women?”

Dean grinned. “Well, duh. All my life.”

“But you’ve fantasised about men, at least once?”

Dean shrugged a shoulder awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Then you are eligible to count yourself as bisexual,” Castiel concluded. “It’s only a word. It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want it. But I thought you ought to know, it’s not an alien concept.”

Dean curled his toes inward and stared down at the little notecard. Dr. Castiel had very beautiful handwriting. Dean wondered if this one word could really change everything for him, straighten out the maze of blocking walls in the house of his mind. Curtains were drawn back, walls were crumbled, and light dawned, as it were.

“Huh,” Dean said.

Castiel patted Dean on the shoulder in a friendly way, fingers dragging and keeping contact when he pulled away a good number of seconds later.

“I think that’s why you’ve become impotent,” Castiel reasoned. “You’re bored of girls.”

Dean wet his lips and thought about that.

“And―” Castiel grinned gently, “you’re in need of a different sort of exploration.”

Dean seemed to accept that as a real medical opinion, but Castiel truly couldn’t think of a more believable one. It did seem likely.

“You can get dressed now,” Castiel told him.

“Oh - oh, right,” Dean said, turning away and stalking back to where he’d left his clothes. He couldn’t look away from the notecard. _Bisexual_. When he glanced up to Castiel, he saw the doctor looking back. “What about you, what are you?”

Castiel chuckled, eyeing the floor. “I’m not really supposed to share personal information with my patients.”

“Right.” Dean swallowed. He put the card down on the examination table, and picked up his underwear to start putting it on.

“But if you must know―” Dean looked at Castiel as he spoke, “I call myself gay when most people ask, but really I’m probably closer to grey-area asexual.” Castiel shrugged.

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, as he put on his t-shirt.

“You’re so fond of googling things, why don’t you look it up when you get home?”

Dean bit his lip and grinned, tugging on a sock. “Maybe I will.”

“Good.” Castiel leaned his hands on the desk, head tilted as he watched Dean dress himself. Dean didn’t even mind being watched. He kinda liked it. Whatever rules said the male doctor wasn’t allowed to ogle his male patient, Dean figured that had all gone out the window when Dean had seen the guy’s cock, after he jacked off to the sound of Dean jacking off. That had changed something between them drastically.

Dean jumped a few times to pull on his jeans, then he sauntered up to Dr. Castiel while doing up his belt. Castiel’s eyes dipped to Dean’s lips, then rested back on his eyes. Dean knew what the signal meant, and Castiel didn’t seem to have any inclination to move away as Dean tested his boundaries, stepping up to him completely, his legs bracketing Castiel’s outstretched ones.

Dean licked his lips, looking at Dr. Castiel’s mouth, with its fine vertical lines and plush, pale pink colour. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. If acting on whims was what they were doing now, then that was the whim he wanted to act on.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Dean nodded. “I have a thing for sexy male doctors who break the rules.”

Castiel smirked, feeling a sudden fondness for Dean. It hadn’t been as strong as it was now throughout the examination, but what fondness was present previously was now expanding inside him. He studied Dean’s sex-swollen lips for a while, then met his eye once more. “I’m not _allowed_ to kiss you. You’re my patient... and I’m your doctor―”

“Do you _want_ to kiss me?” Dean asked, echoing Castiel’s query.

Castiel swallowed. He did want to kiss Dean. Very much. “I think,” he began, “w- when you first begin to explore your, um, your sexuality... you need someone, a partner, who will would show you a great deal of patience, who’d explain things, and show you things. Maybe try things out with you, things you haven’t done before, but they have. The internet can’t show you everything, Mr. Winchester.”

At being called ‘Mr. Winchester’, Dean realised Castiel was trying to distance himself again. But he was still radiating his mating signal, which did nothing to help Dean make his mind up about anything.

Dean parted his lips. “You do realise that you just described yourself, right?”

Castiel took a shallow breath, turning his face into the light from the pale blinds on the far side of the office. “No, I’m describing someone else.”

“But I can’t take Doctor Sexy to the Roadhouse and serve him up the best burger in town, now, can I?”

Castiel found himself laughing soundly, falling into the tender hand that Dean swept to his jaw, nudging his face back so they could look into each other’s eyes. Dean had a playful sparkle in him.

“As far as I see it...” Dean trailed off, and the playfulness went out of him. He became unsettled again, looking down at his hands as they fiddled on one of Castiel’s shirt buttons. “There’s only two guys for me, two guys I’d let fuck me. ― _Christ_ , I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” He gathered himself up, and struggled onwards: “One of those guys is fictional. That’s no use to anyone. But the other one gave me a discount on antidepressant meds when my insurance bounced, and gave me a lollipop even though I wasn’t a kid, and once told me I wasn’t fat when I was real insecure about that. That... kind of changed my life.”

“A lollipop changed your life?”

“What? No, it gave me toothache. I mean the discount, and the compliment. You said something nice a few years back and it made me feel good, and even though I wasn’t properly fat I still scrounged up the energy to lose the weight I wanted to lose. It was amazing for me.”

Castiel was frowning deeply, though. “I don’t remember any of that, at all.” It was a lie, he remembered all of it.

“I know you don’t,” Dean said softly, thumb bristling Castiel’s scruffy jaw. “Because you’re a nice person and you do shit like that for every single one of your patients. “But I know for a fact that when you give your patients prostate checks, you don’t hold them down and make them moan on purpose. I googled it, okay, I know it wasn’t meant to be like that. You fucking cheated because you wanted it, and you like me.”

Castiel gave a fluttery breath, eyes on Dean’s stomach.

“I’m gonna kiss you, Cas,” Dean said, tilting Castiel’s chin up. “Pull away if you want.”

Dean’s voice was steady but his heart was definitely not calm. He could hear it over his breaths, over Castiel’s breaths. He leaned in, and Castiel shut his eyes, and Dean’s mouth met him in the middle. Castiel had leaned in too.

Dean sighed, blissful. Castiel had the kind of facial hair that Dean had had dreams about: bristled fluff cheeking his thighs, tongue in naughty places. But Castiel’s kiss was sweet, the kind of kiss that girls never did right. The kind of kiss Dean didn’t think actually existed.

Dean broke the kiss in his surprise. “Oh,” he said, starting to smile. “Holy crap, I’m bisexual.”

Castiel’s lips twitched, then he burst into a huge grin, shoving Dean away, rubbing his hand over his mouth to touch the kiss. Dean fingered his own lips, feeling the same thing, an emotional imprint.

“Dean, I really am sorry to let you down,” Castiel said, “but burgers from Heaven or not, I cannot have sex with - or date - a patient.”

Dean felt all squirmy at the word ‘date’. Date date _date_. He was gonna date a doctor even if it killed him. And if it killed him, Cas would bring him back, because he was a doctor and he was magical like that.

Castiel went on considering Dean, wondering what it would take to get him to walk away, no matter how much Castiel was second-guessing his desire to be left in peace.

Dean gave him a soft smile, and he looked like he was going to say something else, but his next words caught on his tongue, and he didn’t speak.

“What?” Castiel prompted. “What were you going to say?”

“Well... what if I got myself transferred?” Dean said. When Castiel looked startled, Dean went on, “I could shift over to one of the other doctors here, or down the road. That’s allowed, right? There’s no law against anyone dating a doctor completely - _someone’s_ got to - so if I wasn’t―”

Dean’s words halted again, trapped in his throat. He shot Castiel a worried glance. Castiel leaned forward, putting a hand on Dean’s arm to encourage him to speak.

“Sorry,” Dean huffed, managing a smile. “This is going pretty fast. When I came in here I thought maybe you’d give me some Cialis or something, but... then this happened.”

“When you came in here I thought you could be bribed with a lollipop,” Castiel shrugged. “Worked last time.”

“You do remember,” Dean grinned.

Castiel cleared his throat slowly. “I’ll - um, see what I can do about a transfer.”

Dean’s eyes shot up immediately. “What, really?!”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “If it’s what you want?”

“Well, I―” Dean swallowed. He thought about Castiel’s fingers sliding into him again, thought about maybe something _other_ than a finger... He thought about him sinking his teeth into the Roadhouse’s famous burger, sipping on the bar’s best selection, moaning in delight as the best flavours in the world mottled brilliantly over his tongue... Hell yes, Dean wanted that. He nodded.

“Then I’ll sort the forms out tonight. You’ll get something in the post.” Castiel stood up. They were almost the same height, an inch between their noses. Castiel leaned forward, nudging Dean’s lips with his own as he murmured, “You made me lose control, Mr. Winchester. I dare say I can think of plenty of ways to make you do the same.”

Dean ignited from the inside, but tried not to let it show. “Awesome.”

Castiel chuckled, patting Dean on the chest. “You ought to leave, Dean, or you might overstay your welcome. It’s a good thing you were today’s final patient, or we would’ve been interrupted.”

Dean backed away as he was told, but his eyes didn’t leave Castiel’s. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

“Quite soon, I’d imagine. All this talk of burgers has made me hungry. Wait, wait― Hand me that card, I’ll write down my number.”

Dean was a mess of hidden raw nerves and relief as he handed over the card. Castiel hunched over his thighs and wrote out a cellphone number below the word ‘ _bisexual_ ’. Then he passed the card back to Dean. Dean’s gut twisted as he saw ‘ _(your Sexy doctor) Castiel J. Sheffield_ ’ above the number.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Only thing better than Doctor Sexy is a sexy doctor.”

“Indeed. Now shoo.”

Dean smirked as he retreated to the door. “I’m off duty tomorrow night.”

Castiel twirled his pen between his fingers, watching Dean. “I take it that means you’ll call before then.”

“Or you could pinch my number out of the medical files and call _me_ ,” Dean suggested, with a flirtatious arch in his eyebrow. “I know you’re not allowed. But that never stopped you, right?”

Dean had his hand on the door handle now. He tucked the notecard into his breast pocket, then opened the door. “See ya, Doctor.”

“Have a nice day, Dean. Good luck.”

Dean grinned. Then he took a breath, which was nervous and unsettled, but he held it together enough to smile. “Thanks. You know, for―” he waved a hand at the examination table, then at Castiel's desk, then patted his pocket.

“You’re very welcome.”

Dean smiled again as he shut the door.

Now alone, Castiel exhaled thunderously, grinning and falling face-first into his hands. He’d never fucked up so perfectly before today, and still had everything turn out fine. Well, he hoped it would be fine...

He reached for a blank notecard and opened Dean’s medical file. Dean was right: Castiel was a sneaky little wretch when it mattered. He copied down Dean’s number, and closed the file with a very self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Who would ever want Doctor Sexy, if they could have Doctor Cas?

**Author's Note:**

> And with this fic, I complete my goal of posting [one million words](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/68772505356/elmies-countdown-to-one-million-words) on my AO3 account!
> 
> (A kudo a day keeps the doctor... um...)


End file.
